Video games, or at least good ones like NBA2K14, are converging on something that very much resembles reality. How much fun that will be is an open question. A selection from the previous issue of The Classical Magazine, Play.

Andy Murray is, after a long and difficult rise, a Wimbledon champion. We can only guess at what it was he figured out that allowed him to get there. That's a champion's prerogative, and seems especially right in this case.

Another consideration of an outsized, fantastical world shot through with feuds, intrigue, power struggles and occasional acts of violence. But we write about the NBA all the time, so here's how the league relates to "Game of Thrones."

The homemade rap anthem for Florida Gulf Coast University's upstart basketball team is, finally, just what it is: proof that someone can sound less impressive over Tyga's "Rack City" beat than Tyga, that young women are doing gremlin-y Nicki Minaj imitations into dorm-room mics, and a reminder the YouTube has a lot of stuff on it. But, in its giddy and glorious jankiness and just-in-time opportunism, it's also just about perfect for the NCAA Tournament's greatest upstart team, and kind of perfect in general.

The Deadspin story that unraveled the tale of Manti Te'o's fictitious girlfriend was a great piece of journalism. The story itself is a wild one, and pretty great in its own right. So why does the whole thing feel so bad?

Derrick Rose is a great player, and his injury was indeed a big deal. But the attempt by Adidas to turn him and his recovery into a Cause We All Can Believe In just feels... well, dumb, but also kind of sad.

Kirk Hinrich has never been much more than Kirk Hinrich, which is what made him valuable to the Bulls in the last decade, and readily available to the team as a stopgap in this one. But just because Hinrich has never been great doesn't mean he isn't an historical figure of sorts, both for Bulls fans and in a recognizable NBA way.

If it's true that there are no second acts in American life, then what is former Chicago White Sox slugger Frank Thomas doing putting his name on a high-alcohol specialty malt liquor? And, more to the point, why is anyone drinking this stuff?

He'll never be mistaken for Kevin Love, but after a decade as a NBA meme made pasty flesh, Brian Scalabrine has proven that he's something more, and more complicated, than an exceptionally well-paid human meme.